Tiny Bones
by hungry hobo
Summary: It's slow and he's just a boy.


**Author's Note: **I don't know? I was reading old firestorm comics and the one where she gets sick and Ronnie calling her mom was just... Anyways

...

The day starts out like any other. His father's making scrambled eggs, half burnt, and downing a cup of cold coffee. Ronnie is tying his own shoes because he's a big boy now, seven and all grow up.

Felicity comes to the door, pretty and bright. She smells like flowers and slips him a bar of chocolate for lunch. He lets her hold his hand because she really wants to.

They hop all the way to the car. One two three four and he makes the landing!

He buckles the seatbelt with a click and complains about the hot leather burning his legs. Summer is calling, only three days away and School Is Out!

And Felicity is shouting, curled around him. His front porch is hotter than the seat and brighter than the sun. Crying, she holds on to him because it takes him a moment longer to process fire and falling wood and his father isn't out yet before he clings to her.

...

He can't hear anything because his pants are too stiff, too straight. Felicity holds his hand because his father told him he was the man of the house when he wasn't there.

There are too many nameless faces, over and over again sorry. Ugly eyes and the sun is bright as if to show him clearly.

She doesn't look so pretty with black ink running down her cheeks. Ronnie wonders were all her color has gone.

...

Felicity is twenty two and old but everyone else is ancient and not as tall.

He watches her claw and snarl through a window, sees her beat towers and stacks of papers fall under hands.

Ronnie goes home with her with the radio on loud.

...

She builds him a fort of pillows in the living room. They are square and round and long and short. Blue pink yellow purple green orange red.

They stock it with comic books and gummi bears. Ignoring doorbells, they map out strategies to conquer the kitchen kingdom.

...

Felicity takes him to the movie theatres every Tuesday. The dark feels warm and smells like old shoe and butter. There is a lump of gum under his seat.

Fridays are reserved especially for the only two swings at the decrepit park one block away from Felicity's house.

"Let's go back to your house," he says.

"Let's go back home," she says.

...

Summer slips down the drain like melting ice cream. His school is new and his class is new and he is an old student. They shouldn't be calling him the new kid, his name is Ronnie.

He gets home, and she's waiting with snacks. She shows him wires kiss and twist under black plastic. Computers torn apart and put back together, she shows him the path through a maze of circuit boards and hardware.

His back pack is blue and black and Doreen Day is holding his hand. He sticks out his tongue at four eyed Cliff Carmichael. Today, he feels stronger than any other eight year old on the planet.

...

He opens the door. Felicity gave him his own key, and he wears it on a chain around his neck. Yellow bus leaves yellow dust, and he says good afternoon to the red stop sign.

The lights are off, the rooms are dark, it's empty and he has tiny bones. Panic squeezes and chokes him. Hot tears climb down to his chest. He turns and slams into a pillar of pink warmth.

"Felicity!"

His eyes leak all over her shoulders. It's horrible, his eyes are broken. He'll probably go blind.

Her hands are soft and stroke back his hair. She kneels and pebbles cling to her tights.

"I'm home, I'm home."

...

On his sixth birthday, his father gave him a rocket ship and lopsided cake.

On his ninth birthday, Felicity makes him banana pancakes for breakfast and promises always. He finds a football on his windowsill.

...

He remembers his father ironing white shirts and crinkly pants. It smelled like when he cooked.

Felicity is sleeping on the coach and he takes her shoes off. The white basket is heavy in his arms until he tosses it into the gaping mouth of the washer. He reads the box instructions before chucking half of what's left over the clothes. The washer starts to rattle and he counts seven footsteps back to the living room.

She's not on the couch anymore, but there's a cup of cocoa on the coffee table.

It warms him up to the top of his head and down to his toes.

...

Ronnie is straight A's all year and she gives him a chocolate bar each time.

She's two left feet but learns how to catch for him. They hide in the old park in the afternoons, throwing the football back and forth like a pendulum.

He scores three touchdowns during P.E.

...

Third grade is two inches taller and cursive spelling and multiplication. It's also the second time Ronnie sees Felicity cry.

She is a silent hunch, a willow tree, her hair is the leaves and the branches. Spread like peanut butter on carpet is a collage of a man who is hard to remember.

The one in her hand is the one that seems the least true, but it's the most honest. It is a quiet smile and rolled up sleeves. His hair is loose and chin scruffy.

He can feel that day on the inside of his eyelids. She'd been wearing a white sundress. It was the moment he decided he liked her. She'd kissed a smile onto his father's face and captured it on paper.

Ronnie picks up the photos and slips one of all three of them into his pocket. He drapes a blanket over her.

...

She takes him to his mother's grave first. They say hello and spread out a picnic in front of the weathered stone.

"You know, Ronnie has grown so tall this past year. Soon enough he'll be able to reach the clouds..." she starts and mumbles circles to a silent slab of rock. Her smile is soft.

When she gets up, he lingers .

Voice small, words loud, "Can you let her stay with me?"

Grass tickles his ankles and Felicity calls his name.

...

Ten years old and waiting, he doesn't cry.

He is alone in the waiting room of the emergency room. Cold silence and box of white holds him. A faceless nurse walks him to the cafeteria and buys him a milkshake. It tastes like heavy water.

It's not right. He still feels the same. He can move his hands, stretch his legs, turn his head. Feet itching to run, he has to watch the clock hands move forward fifteen hours.

One morning too late, they let him see her.

"Mom!"

She is too thin, too warm, and the happiest woman on Earth.

...

It's his first day of middle school and she's blubbering.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," he reassures.

Doreen is waiting at the bus stop with new shoes. She looks pretty with her hair loose. The yellow bus chugs down toward them in slow motion.

He blushes when Felicity runs out to kiss him goodbye.

He doesn't wipe it off his cheek.

...

A man in black slips in through the back.

She scoops him out of bed and they pile everything against her bedroom door. He doesn't look at how her hands shake and just holds them. They hide in the tub, and he uses her warmth as a blanket.

She calls the police and one more.

A tall bird man comes. He has a square face and high pitched voice. It looks like he doesn't know what a razor is.

Ronnie doesn't smile in relief at him.

...

He gives the name Oliver, but Ronnie calls him big bird. Big bird laughs it off, but there is no smile on his face.

He wants to punch the smile off his face when she starts rambling. There's no room for him in their living room, eyes, life.

...

She doesn't come home one night. It's been a pair, duo, one and one equals two for years. They haven't had anyone but passing faces. No one but each other.

The clock ticks two hours. The door doesn't open.

He won't cry, swallows pride.

"Oliver..."

...

He brings her home as a battered lump of dyed hair and smeared lipstick. Big bird's face is harsh and angry.

She sleeps in and takes the day off. He makes her misshapen banana pancakes, and big bird turns into guard dog of the couch.

...

Big bird eats dinner every two days with them. He flings veggies, but big bird dodges like a pro.

She doesn't really notice.

...

They play hooky.

The drive takes three hours, but when they get there the sky is gorgeous. Blue into blue into blue, it stretches on over them. The smell of dirt and grass dances up to greet him.

She leans against grey and pretends it's life. The sun quickly slips into night and she kisses Edward Raymond goodnight.

He leaves behind a hello goodbye.

"Let's go back to the house," Felicity says.

"Let's go home, " Ronnie says.


End file.
